


Ruby, Citrine, Topaz

by cocoalover1956



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Non-Linear Narrative, One Shot, Reproductive Coercion, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:07:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24492502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cocoalover1956/pseuds/cocoalover1956
Summary: Elia had accepted very quickly into her marriage that there were parts of Rhaegar she would never be able to touch. He had a quiet melancholy in him that could not be soothed with her gentle words, but she hoped he at least appreciated her efforts. Evidently he did not.
Relationships: Aerys II Targaryen/Rhaella Targaryen, Elia Martell & Ned Stark, Elia Martell & Rhaella Targaryen, Elia Martell/Rhaegar Targaryen, Lyanna Stark & Ned Stark, Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen
Comments: 31
Kudos: 90





	Ruby, Citrine, Topaz

Elia had just put her children to bed when Rhaella came to her chambers, looking pale and worried. She sat her goodmother in her solar and called for chilled wine. Rhaella was not partial to drink, at least not as much as Aerys, but she looked like she needed something to calm her.

"You're distressed," Elia noted. "What ails you today, goodmother?"

Rhaella dealt with much that could distress her. Her brother-husband treated her cruelly, her eldest son had vanished, and a war waged across the continent.

Since Rhaegar had run off with Lord Stark's daughter, Elia's goodfather kept her confined to her chambers in Maegor's Holdfast with her children. He forbade her visitors, save her goodmother. Worry gnawed at Elia from day to day. She only received news when the queen or one of the Kingsguard gave it to her, but even then, she could solely trusted her uncle for consistency and honesty. Rhaella had to deal with Aerys and care for Viserys, while the other white knights valued their loyalty to Aerys over anyone else. Rhaegar had humiliated her, but Aerys had taken her eyes, ears, and tongue.

When Rhaegar disappeared, she had been questioned by the king's men as to the whereabouts of her husband, but she knew as much as anyone else where he had gone. At first she thought he might have gone to Summerhall. But if that had been the case, why the secrecy? What reason did he have to hide?

Rhaella drank deeply from her goblet before she began, "Jon Connington made a mess of Stoney Sept. He let Robert Baratheon slip through his fingers. The northmen and valemen had time to arrive and crush his army."

"Where are Jon and the royal army now?" Elia asked.

"Running back to King's Landing with their tails between their legs," Rhaella replied wearily. "He took a wound from Lord Baratheon, though he wounded Hoster Tully and killed Denys Arryn beforehand. I'm sure Jon fought as valiantly as he could, but like as not my husband will strip him of his office. You know he despises weakness."

Yes, Elia knew that well.

The queen continued, in a quiet mournful voice, "We lost Myles Mooton in the fighting."

Elia felt a chuck of ice form in her belly. Already she could see his face before her, his careless grin and the freckles that dotted his nose and cheeks. Bold Ser Myles had been the only one of Rhaegar's companions who regarded her as his friend, and not just the prince's wife. Jon Connington disliked her, Richard Lonmouth paid her no mind, and Arthur Dayne was polite but distant. Myles joked with her and asked her about Dorne and visited her when she was abed with illness.

Why had he died? So Rhaegar could sleep with another man's betrothed? The unfairness of it stole her breath.

The two women held hands, silent as they shared a moment of grief. Elia was grateful for Rhaella's presence. She had been a good friend to her late mother, and Elia saw her more as a favorite aunt than a goodmother.

"Aerys must be furious," Elia noted.

"He's more afraid that anything else," Rhaella replied. "Not that that's much better. He thought he could make quick work of the rebels, but this has shown him that he was wrong."

"We could lose this war," Elia whispered. The fear surged over her like a tidal wave. It wasn't just the Iron Throne at stake. She did not believe the rebels would spare her or her child should they win the war. Aerys committed a monstrous act when he murdered Lord Stark and his eldest son, and many other lords and their sons. Some nights Elia could still hear them screaming as she struggled to fall asleep. The rebels would want blood. Targaryen blood.

"Aerys is writing to your brother as we speak, asking for his spears."

"Doran will loath to give them over after the way Aerys and Rhaegar treated me." So now she was a hostage.

"I know, dear." Rhaella placed a hand over Elia's hands. "I predicted Aerys would not be kind to you, but never had I imagine Rhaegar would shame you in such a way."

"Has anyone seen him? Or the girl?"

"So far, no. I would have guessed he'd taken her to Summerhall, he loved it there, but no one can find any trace of them. Aerys is considering sending Ser Gerold to find him."

"He won't be found unless he wants to be."

"When he hears news of this war, and that can't be long, he'll return and take up his duties as crown prince. He'll lead the royal army and secure his father's throne."

"That's assuming he hasn't already fled across the Narrow Sea with the Stark girl to become a wandering bard or something," Elia stated bitterly. "How could you expect him to do his duty to the realm when he could scarcely be bothered to do his duty to me or our children?"

Rhaella's mouth twisted into a grimace, "I suppose I cannot argue with you on that front. Rhaegar...I had such high hopes for him. I though he was nothing like his father. He might not be mad like Aerys, but he's just as thoughtless, just as selfish."

A sob tried to crawl its way up Elia's throat, but she forced it down. Rhaegar did not deserve her tears. "I wouldn't have guessed it. He always spoke of duty and his obligations to the world."

"How are the children handling this? Viserys is so distraught that his big brother is nowhere to be found."

"They don't understand what's happening. Many a night I have found Rhaenys sleeping in her father's chambers. Waiting for him, I think."

Rhaella winced and closed her eyes, as if the mere thought caused her physical pain. "And Aegon?"

"I'm not sure he even knows he has a father," Elia took a sip of her wine at last, a sour Dornish red. "His precious prince that was promised."

"His...what?"

"Something Rhaegar said after Aegon was born," Elia shrugged. "He never told me what it meant, but at the time I thought it was sweet. A lovely, poetic thing for a father to say of his firstborn son. I suppose Aegon doesn't mean as much to him as I thought, nor Rhaenys, else he would not have abandoned them."

A strange expression came to Rhaella's face. An odd mix of bewilderment, fear, and understanding. "Do not think Rhaegar cares so little for his children."

Aerys dishonored you often, but he never _left_ you. He never _left_ Rhaegar or Viserys, Elia thought uncharitably. You are quick to defend Rhaegar because he is your son, but was he ever so quick to defend you because you are his mother?

Instead Elia forced herself to smile. "I'll remember that, goodmother."

* * *

"You said we were going to King's Landing!" Lyanna shouted.

Rhaegar and Arthur almost jumped, both startled. The moon hung high in the night sky, a shining silver disk over the black water. It shone on Lyanna's pale face where she stood on the deck. Her loose, dark braid and the blanket she had wrapped around herself both danced in the wind as she glared at them with fiery grey eyes.

"I told you to stay below deck," Rhaegar scolded.

"You said we were going to King's Landing," Lyanna repeated, "But Thio said this ship was headed for Oldtown."

"Who?" Rhaegar asked.

"The captain's grandson. He's the only one on the godsforsaken ship who speaks the Common Tongue. He told me we were going to Oldtown, not King's Landing."

Rhaegar and Arthur both looked each other, cursing silently. Arthur had chosen this ship specifically because none of its crew spoke the Common Tongue, only Low Valyrian - so they thought. If Lyanna couldn't talk to anyone, she couldn't give them away. Nor would she know the truth before the ship set sail. That first problem still needed to be dealt with, but the second was not so serious. It was already too late for her to change her mind.

"You ought to have not disobeyed me."

" _You_ ought to have not lied to me."

"My lady," Arthur spoke for the first time, "There is a good explanation for all this, but you must be patient a while longer."

"Ha! Talk to Robert Baratheon about my patience. Why are we going to Oldtown?"

"It's merely a stop on our true destination," Rhaegar answered.

Lyanna narrowed her eyes, her teeth chewing on the corner of her lip for a moment before she spoke again. "But we went past King's Landing. I've never been a ship on a ship before, I don't know how long a voyage from Saltpans to King's Landing should take, but I'm not stupid. I know Oldtown is not between them. How are we going to get the king to call off my betrothal if we're in the Reach?" Lyanna pouted and wrapped the blanket tighter around herself.

"As I said, Oldtown is not our final destination. There are matters that I must attend to before we can speak to my father."

"You should have said that before we left!" Lyanna whined.

Rhaegar cupped her cheek gently, ignoring her flinch of surprise. "I ask that you trust me, my lady. I have no plans to harms you."

Lyanna swatted his hand away, angry. "Why should I trust you anymore? You lied to me."

"I did not-"

"Yes you did," Lyanna stomped her foot childishly. "You didn't tell tell me the truth about where we were going. What business do you have to attend to? I deserve to know."

"My lady," Arthur said in a warning tone, "It would behoove you act according to your station, rather than throw a tantrum."

She glared at him, but then turned her attention back to Rhaegar, "What is so important that I can't go to King's Landing _now_?"

"I am taking you to Dorne."

Lyanna blinked. "That's your wife's home. Is it something to do with her family?" She turned back to Arthur, "Or yours?"

"Neither." Arthur told her. "I think this is a conversation you two best have alone."

"As you say," Rhaegar nodded. "But not now. There's no benefit to speaking of it too early."

"Of course there isn't," Lyanna made a noise of disgust, turned on her heel, and marched back to her rooms below deck.

* * *

"Grand Maester Pycelle tells me you are with child. I thought you said you were barren after birthing my grandson." Aerys sat on the Iron Throne, toying with his overly-long fingernails. His violet eyes shifted nervously before he settled them once more on Elia.

"I am with child, your Grace. It was the grand maester who announced that I could have no more children." Elia answered calmly. When Elia had been seventh moons along with Aegon, her midwife Urela had concocted a potion for her to drink that eased her pain and fatigue. Likely she owed her life to it. When her moonblood stopped flowing, Elia had Urela brew it for her every day.

She had not been in the throne room since Rhaegar had left with the royal army, nor spoke to her goodfather since they received word of Rhaegar's demise. The throne room had a scant few courtiers. Many and more lords and knights had gone off to fight with her husband. Others ran home to defend their own lands. All around her were widows, fatherless daughters, and green boys thrust into lordship. Rhaella sat beside her husband, more pale and wan than usual after learning that she had lost her firstborn.

"It makes no difference," Aerys sneered. "You're not fit to whelp. That babe will kill you on the way out, and like as not die soon afterward. You have it coming, after the way the Dornish failed me on the Trident." His voice rose with each word, until he began screaming, "You wanted this, you Dornish bitch! Admit it!. You wanted Rhaegar to die, you want to see me lose my throne. The gods have seen into your heart and seen it's black rot. They will strike you down in childbed, as you deserve. Leave me!"

Elia curtsied as graceful as she could considering her heart pounded in her chest like a blacksmith's hammer. As she fled the throne room, courtiers gave her wide berth, as though she had the touch of death. Since Ashara had been dismissed, Elia had been rapidly losing friends in the city.

A common palace guard escorted her back to her chambers. Only Ser Jaime remained of the Kingsguard and Aerys kept the boy close at all time. Her dear uncle Ser Lewyn had perish at the Trident, along with Ser Jonothor. Ser Barristan sat prisoner, clinging to life after many grievous wounds. Gods knew where Hightower, Dayne, and Whent had vanished too. Despite all that had happened, they had not returned from wherever Rhaegar had hidden away Lyanna Stark.

She had tried not to think of Lyanna, but the thoughts came to her regardless. Did she know of Rhaegar's death yet? Was she mourning, or rejoicing?

Once Elia reached her chambers, she went straight to the room her children shared. Both Rhaenys and Aegon were napping, Rhaenys in her bed and Aegon in his cradle. Balerion curled in a black, furry ball at her daughter's feet. They looked so frighteningly small and fragile, it almost brought Elia to tears. How could she protect them? Or protect the child now inside her?

Rhaegar, who left them for his prophecies and dreams, spilled his lifeblood in the Trident. Their grandfather was a madman who hated them. The war had been lost and the rebels moved ever closer to King's Landing. She was just one woman. What could she possibly do?

She desperately wished Uncle Lewyn were still with her. Her uncle, so tall and strong and full of life, who had looked over for her entire life, perished at the behest of the two men who had hurt her most. Her brothers were both many leagues away and would never reach her in any short amount of time. Her father had died of the sweating sickness years earlier. Who did she have left? Who could she turn to now? She was so lonely, it felt like a ache in her chest.

After spending a quarter of an hour standing in the doorway watching her children sleep, Elia at last tore herself away and retreated to her own bedchamber. Urela urged her to eat the potion and she complied, though it tasted like ash and dust. She only managed to force half the bowl down her throat, before pleading that she could take no more and needed to sleep.

When she slept, she dreamed of Rhaegar standing alone on banks of a river in his immaculate black armor, the rubies gleamed in the spring sunlight, blood dripping from every crevice from a dozen unseen wounds. He stepped forward and reached for her. Terrified, she tried to run, but slipped and fell in the river. She tried to swim away but-

Rhaenys woke her the nightmare, demanding to be played with. Elia was glad of the distraction, though she was still exhausted.

* * *

"You will watch over him, won't you?" Lyanna pleaded. In her bed of blood, Lyanna look small and fragile in way she never had before. Childbirth had sapped her strength, and the fever burned through her like she was kindling. "I know I made a horrible mistake, I regret it more than I can say, but I beg you to protect him. Please do no resent him for who is father is, or what his grandfather did."

Ned held the babe with one arm, his other hand clutching hers. Tears stung his eyes as he thought of Father and Brandon. How would they have felt about Lyanna's son? He never they would stoop to the horrors Tywin Lannister had visited upon the royal family, but would they love him as Lyanna did? Or would they shun him as the seed of a mad prince? Ned did not love his nephew any less for how he had come to be, but he knew not many in his position would feel the same. "He is your blood and mine. That is all that matters."

"Promise me you'll protect him," Lyanna insisted, her voice so weak it was hardly above a whisper. "I cannot rest until you promise. Promise me Ned."

"I promise Lya," Ned swore, though his eyes were filled with anguish. He could not accept that his little sister was dying right in front of him. Lyanna, who had always seemed so strong and tenacious. She was still strong, he reminded himself. Not in a way, I've seen before, but strong regardless. "I swear by bronze and iron, no harm shall come to your son so long as I draw breathe."

The last bit of fear left her body, and Lyanna smiled up at her brother. Ned never broke a promise. Her son was safe.

"Has he a name?"

Lyanna shook her head. "Rhaegar thought I'd give birth to a girl. You should name him. He is yours now."

He thought for a moment, "I had always wanted to name my first son Jon."

"If it you think it best," she replied. She raised a thin arm to touch Jon's little hand. "Hello Jon. I'm your mother, Lyanna."

* * *

Elia watched with pride as her husband was declared the winner of the final tilt, making him the champion of the tourney. Rhaegar did not have as much enthusiasm for tourneys as some other men, but he completed as was expected of his station. He was a fine horseman and skilled with a lance, though better with a sword. Her eyes found the favor she had given him to wear as four knights of the Kingsguard and many other men fell to him.

Following custom, Rhaegar placed a crown of flowers at the end of his lance to crown his queen of love and beauty. They were a flower she had never seen before, rose petals of a gentle pale blue. Elia noticed Lord Whent's daughter clapping for her, despite the fact that her brothers and uncles had failed to honor her position as queen of love and beauty.

Rhaegar rode to the where the stands were the she and the other highborn guests had gathered. For a moment he looked up and locked eyes with her, but when she raised a hand to receive the crown, he rode past her. The smile fell from Elia's face as her husband instead placed the flowers in the lap of a young maid sitting under the Stark banner. For a moment, Elia was so stunned she could scarcely comprehend what had just happened.

The cheers from the crowd died down as the gravity of the situation unfolded. No one looked happy, not even Rhaegar. Lyanna Stark seemed confused as she stared at the pale blue flowers in her lap. She picked it up, but did not place it on her head. The men in sitting around her all looked furious. As Rhaegar rode from the tilts, the silence gave way to whispers. What had he been thinking? Surely he had to know what people would think?

Elia's face hardened and she sat stiff in her seat. Never in her life had she felt so humiliated. She thought back to a story her mother had once told her, of how Aemon the Dragonknight entered a tourney as a mystery knight to prevent Aegon the Unworthy from naming his mistress queen of love and beauty in place of Queen Nerys. The memory sickened her. There was no way Rhaegar had bedded that little girl. By the look of her, Lyanna was no more than four-and-ten and promised to Robert Baratheon, no less!

Or could he have, at some during the tourney? Would he truly despoil his own cousin's betrothed and brag about it to the whole realm? Whether or not he did bed Lyanna, Rhaegar had humiliated them both by crowning her. Her husband was not like most men and some days Elia felt she could hardly understand him, but even so, she knew him well enough to know this sort of behavior was entirely unlike him. She could forgive her husband for many of his eccentricities, but this went beyond the pale.

Ashara touched her sleeve, a concerned gesture. "Not now," Elia whispered. Not with everyone watching.

* * *

"Begin making preparations to leave for Dragonstone," Aerys commanded. "Robert Baratheon and his dogs are nearing King's Landing, and I'll not have you and Viserys put in danger."

The sentiment was almost sweet, if not for the fact that Rhaella lived in fear of Aerys himself moreso than the rebels.

Rhaella sat in her husband's solar. She had not been here in years, for she rarely sought his company. Little had changed about this room, but much had changed about Aerys. Though he had always been a bit odd, after the Defiance of Duskendale he slip deeper into madness until she could hardly recognize the man he had become. He sat before her pale and anxious, running his gnarled hands through his long, tangled beard.

"And our grandchildren, our gooddaughter?"

"I need them here. The Dornish are just waiting to betray us, I know for certain. I need them in the city as a reminder not to cross me."

"You cannot!" Rhaella pleaded. "If we're in so much danger, they must be sent to Dragonstone as well. You know Prince Doran loves you well. He would never throw his lot with the rebels, especially after they killed his uncle." Doran had few, if any, warm feelings left for them, but Rhaella knew for certain he would not turn over to rebels. Whatever happened, she would say anything to protect her family.

"He cannot be trusted," Aerys shook his head, "Only fear keeps men in line. Let him have a taste of fear and see how he likes it."

"My love, Aegon and Rhaenys are but babes. And Elia is with child again. Surely you cannot leave them to Robert Baratheon's mercy."

Something flickered in Aerys's eyes. Rhaella waited for his response with a small sliver of hope in her heart.

"The Martell bitch isn't worth anything since she's going die soon anyway. Take her with you. I won't tolerate the sight of her if I don't have to, but her whelps stay with me."

* * *

"Welcome home," Elia said sarcastically as her uncle escorted her into Rhaegar's chambers. The same chambers Rhaenys had wandered into almost every night since he'd left them.

"Ser Lewyn, please wait without," Rhaegar said.

Lewyn did his best not the glare at the man who had dishonored his niece, "Of course your Grace." He gave Elia a reassuring squeeze of the hand before leaving her alone with her husband.

"I understand why you're upset," Rhaegar began, seating himself at his desk with Elia across from him.

"Upset? Is that all you think I am?" Elia challenged. Anger kept her voice low and steady, like a snake in the grass waiting for the right moment to strike.

"I did not have the time to explain myself because there was only a narrow chance for me to do what needed to be done."

"And what was that? I hope it was worth losing Ser Myles."

Rhaegar's look of surprise and sudden grief told her he hadn't known about the death of Myles Mooton. "How did he died?"

"He was slain by Robert Baratheon during the Battle of the Bells, him and five others."

"And Lord Jon? Ser Richard?"

"Jon was wounded, but still lives. The king stripped him of his titles and banished him from the realm. I don't know where he is now. Ser Richard is still with the royal army."

Rhaegar bowed his head and took a moment to let the news sink in. Elia couldn't help feeling some measure of pity for him, but at the same time it wounded her that he cared so much more for his friends than for her. Hadn't he placed her in danger as well? He knew his father was mad and despised her, yet he had left her alone with him.

When Rhaegar regained control of himself, he told her, "I've done what I've needed to do. Do you remember the night we made Aegon, the comet in the sky?"

Elia listened in stony silence as Rhaegar launched into his explanation. It would have been bad enough if his actions were part of some ill-conceived political plot. It was so much worse that he was acting on dusty old scrolls and half-forgotten prophecies.

"You must know that I never intended to abandon you, or the children. I came home as soon as I was sure Lyanna was with child," he said, as if it softened the blow.

"You left me to put a bastard in another woman."

"Visenya won't be a bastard for long," Rhaegar said, "When I take power from my father, I will legitimize her and we will raise her alongside our children."

Elia felt ready to faint. "What is wrong with you? How could you do that to me? To our children?"

Confused by her anger, Rhaegar tentatively answered, "She'll not be a threat to Aegon or Rhaenys. The three of them are meant to be together, like the Conqueror and his sister-wives."

"But you would still humiliate me?" Elia demanded.

"I thought you of all people would not hold my daughter's bastardy against her," Rhaegar frowned. "I know the Dornish treat bastards more gently that the rest of the realm. Your brother-"

"Oberyn isn't married!" Elia cried, enraged that he would even dare such a comparison. "He has no wife to dishonor, unlike you. How could you possibly think I would want to raise a child conceived through adultery against me? Are you mad?"

That was first time in their entire marriage that Elia had ever interrupted him. At first, Rhaegar was too stunned by her outburst to feel anything else, but as her words spun around in his mind, the anger slowly manifested in his face. "You're not acting like yourself, Elia. This past year has been incredibly stressful for you, so I will forgive you. But do no forget that I am your lord, and you have sworn a vow to obey me in all things. Perhaps one day you will understand."

Elia had accepted very quickly into her marriage that there were parts of Rhaegar she would never be able to touch. He had a quiet melancholy in him that could not be soothed with her gentle words, but she hoped he at least appreciated her efforts. Evidently he did not.

"And what about Lyanna Stark? Do you want me to mother her too?" she asked scornfully.

"Lyanna wants nothing more than to return to Winterfell, and I will grant her that."

"You'd have to separate her from her child."

"It's unfortunate, but I'm sure she'll recover from the loss. Truth be told, she doesn't appear to want to be a mother anyway. I hope you will at least show some kindness to Visenya, if you cannot come to see her as one of your own. She deserves a motherly touch, even if her mother is not with her."

Elia paused, trying to make sense of his words. "Lyanna...doesn't want to be a mother. But you made sure to get her with child."

"I had to," Rhaegar said. "Or else the prophecy would go unfulfilled. I don't know that she doesn't want to be a mother at all, but she was very unhappy to learn that she was to have a babe."

"What did she think would happen when she left with you?" Elia asked softly, dreading the answer. Rhaegar had done much wrong, but he wouldn't... He wasn't the type of man to...

* * *

After Oldtown, Rhaegar and his knights had taken her through the Dornish marches to a tower in the Prince's Pass. All around her the Red Mountains of Dorne loomed like the teeth of some great beast that was ready to swallow her whole. She longed for the grey-and-green of the North, for the snowfall outside her window. Dorne was so bloody hot during the day she feared she might melt.

Dread filled Lyanna's belly as they finally reached their destination, a small tower standing in a rocky canyon. A small stream flowed near the entrance. A carpet of thick, green grass and strange wildflowers covered either side of the stream. Apart from that, the surrounding area was dreary and empty. Inside, they were greeted by two maids and an apothecary. The maids helped her bathe with water carried from the stream and put her to bed in one of the upstairs rooms, but Lyanna soon grew restless.

Quietly, she left her room and felt her way around the dark tower. She neither candle nor torch to light her path, but she could hear two men talking a floor below her. The words were too faint for her to fully understand, but she heard her name twice. After moving around slowly and carefully, she found the stairwell and crept down as silently as she could.

"Do you know if she's had her blood?" asked the apothecary in his slow Dornish drawl.

"She bled during the journey," Rhaegar confirmed.

Lyanna's face burned with embarrassment. Why in the world were they talking of such a thing?

"I am not familiar with the Starks, for Winterfell is so far away," the apothecary continued. "Do you know if her mother had birthing difficulties? Or her aunts, sisters, cousins?"

"Her mother had four healthy children. No miscarriages or stillbirths that I'm aware or, not did she die in childbed. Lyanna told me her mother fell from a horse and broken her neck. She does not have any other close female relatives."

The gall of him to share that with a stranger! Lyanna wanted to march all the way down the stairs and yell in his face, but she was more curious to know why they were even discussing these things.

"I only worry that Lady Lyanna might not be ready to give birth. She's rather slight for her age and already younger than I would like. The birthing bed will be a great difficulty for her."

"My wife had difficultly birthing our children, yet both are healthy. I only care that my third babe is strong enough to survive childhood. Lyanna's health is not a concern beyond that."

Lyanna froze in shock. The words turned over and over again in her mind, but she could not make sense of them. He took her all the way out here, to a remote and lonely tower in the far end of Westeros, to sire a child on her? Had that been his aim the whole time? It made no sense! He had two trueborn children with Princess Elia, so why would he want a bastard with her?

Tired of waiting for an answer, Lyanna stomped downstairs and cried angrily, "What babe? What are you talking about?"

She had startled Rhaegar once more. He looked angry and annoyed, "You must stop doing that. I thought you were asleep."

"No, you must tell me the truth for once," Lyanna snarled.

Rhaegar sighed deeply and dismissed the apothecary, who kept a wide distance from her as he left as though he feared she might bite him. Lyanna took the seat he had vacated, glaring at the crown prince as he began his explanation.

He spoke of the prophecies he had poured over, the letters he had shared with some distant relative at the Wall, the comet that flew overhead the night he conceived his son. After Aegon's birth, the maesters said Elia could not have more children, but Rhaegar believed he needed another child to fulfill the prophecies. He hoped to recreate the original Targaryen trio, Aegon the Conqueror and his sister-wives Rhaenys and Visenya. If his wife could not provide him with the third child he needed, he had to find another woman.

To Lyanna, it sounded like the ramblings of a madman and she told him that.

"I am not surprised that you find this incomprehensible," Rhaegar replied calmly. "Few wouldn't."

"Because most people have common sense," Lyanna sneered. She hated his patronizing tone. "My maester told me that magic has been fading from the world since the Doom of Valyria. This is a fool's errand. I don't understand how you're so sure this is what needs to be done."

From Rhaegar's expression, he clearly did not appreciate being called a fool. "I don't need your understanding, only your cooperation."

"I don't want to have a child with you."

Rhaegar tried to assure her, "If you do not wish to be part of the child's upbringing, you may leave that all to me."

"I'm sure your _wife_ must be very happy about all of this," Lyanna replied in a bitingly sarcastic tone. She began pacing around the small tower room, trying not to panic.

How clever she had thought herself those many weeks ago! She thought she had brought the crown prince over to her side and convinced him to grant her an audience with the king, so that she might plead for her betrothal to be broken. She would be free of Robert Baratheon and free to return home. Her father would have been furious and Robert even more so, but they'd not dare go against the king.

Only, Rhaegar had been lying to her the whole time. He never once planned to help her escape the betrothal. Like a rabbit lured into a trap, she had abandoned her better judgement and gone off with him. She wanted to kick herself for falling for his deception. Her family must have surely heard of her disappearance by now. They must have been worried sick.

"I must write to my father. I need to tell him where I am," Lyanna stated suddenly. His fury did not scare her half so much as Rhaegar's plan. She wanted her father, her brothers, Winterfell. Whatever punishment her father had in mind for her, she would swallow it without complaint. But she couldn't stay in this lonely tower, growing big with a Targaryen bastard.

"You may not. Everyone in this tower is sworn to utter secrecy. No one can know that-"

"I wasn't sworn to anything!" Lyanna argued. "I owe you nothing."

Rhaegar's expression became so icy that Lyanna shivered. "Did your father spoil you as a child? You are the most rude, willful, and ill-behaved girl I have ever met."

"As if you're one to judge! You're a liar and a kidnapper, and you wish to be an adulterer as well."

"You came with me willingly."

"Under false pretenses. I never would have left with you if I knew what sort of man you really were, or truth of your intentions."

"Regardless, you went with me and you are now under my authority," Rhaegar stated coldly. "Sulk all you want, but you're not leaving this place until you give me a daughter."

* * *

Elia found Lord Stark right where she thought she might find him, in the castle godswood. He knelt before the heart tree, a tall oak with a face carved into it, with his head bowed and his sword by his side. She wondered if his gods could hear him this far south. Even if they could not, he must have found some measure of comfort in this act.

Lord Stark raised his head as the crunching of leaves beneath her feet signaled her approach, "Princess Elia, I had not excepted to see you here."

Oh, his face brought back horrid memories. He looked so much like his father and brother. Elia had been in the room when Aerys murdered them. Lord Rickon burned alive in his armor, while Brandon choked on a torture device trying to rescue his father. The cruelty of it still chilled her bones. The entire court, herself included, had all stood there, frozen in shock and fear, as the lord and heir of Winterfell met their grisly ends.

"No, I'm sure you did not," Elia replied softly. She let Balerion down and knelt in front of the tree beside him. "I have a question to ask, if it pleases you my lord."

"You may ask whatever you wish."

He'll regret saying that, Elia thought. "Before he left for the Trident, Rhaegar told me that your sister was with child. His child. Do not lie to me, Lord Stark. Is the babe Jon truly your son or is he your nephew?"

Lord Stark turned as pale as parchment under the moonlight. His eyes shone with fear and anger and guilt. They sat beside each other in complete silence for several moments. "Jon is of my blood, that is you need to know."

"Nephew, then. You cannot bring yourself to lie to me, but you won't tell the truth. I'm not here to blackmail you Lord Stark," Elia said wearily, as her daughter's kitten curled up in her skirts. "I want Daenerys in my arms, I want Rhaenys and Aegon alive and safe. You cannot give me these things, so what would be the purpose?"

"Then why? Why pick at this wound?" Lord Stark asked, anguished.

"Because I deserve to know what my two eldest children died for."

"Jon is innocent in this."

"So were Aegon and Rhaenys."

"You have my sincerest condolences, princess."

"And you have mine," Elia replied genuinely. "What my late goodfather and my late husband did to your family was inexcusable. I heard that you protested against my children's deaths. The act is not unappreciated."

Lord Stark dipped his head, made bashful by her sincerity. "I never imagined any of this happening."

"But now we are bound together, by grief and by blood," Elia muttered. "Your nephew is my daughter's brother. No one expected me to have another child, let alone survive childbed, yet here I am. And she is so far away from me."

"Princess Elia, can I trust you to never tell anyone of Jon's parentage?"

"Only if you swear to me that he himself will never learn the truth," Elia stated, in a tone that left no room for compromise. "In Dorne, we learn from a young age who the Blackfyres were and why they rose to power. I will not suffer Rhaegar's bastard threatening what remains of my family."

"Jon is but a babe."

"If the gods show him mercy, he'll become a man someday."

"Be at peace, princess," Lord Stark replied after a long while, "I don't want Jon to know the truth any more than you do. It is a burden I don't want him to carry."

"I'll not be at peace until I have my daughter back."

"Robert will never allow it."

"I am well aware," Elia replied darkly. "What will you tell the boy when he asks about his mother?"

"Nothing."

"That will not serve," Elia shook her head. "He'll keep asking until you say something. If you say nothing, people will start getting their own ideas about where Jon came from. They might even begin to suspect the truth."

Lord Stark looked disturbed by the possibility, "I don't know what to say."

"Lie," Elia told him. "Tell him a nice story about how his mother was some pretty peasant girl who won your heart, but died tragically after giving birth to him. Give her a common name, like Tessa or Daisy. A sweet lie will help him sleep a little easier. You're already lying about being his father, so what does it matter?"

"I will think on it," Lord Stark replied haltingly.

"As it pleases you, my lord," Elia met his eye with a knowing look. "I'm sure you know that Robert would be no kinder to your nephew than to my daughter, if he knew the truth."

"I am."

"Yet, you are still his friend? Why?"

"Robert is nearly a brother to me," Lord Stark answered, his voice full of anguish and conflicted emotions. "He protected and looked after me when we were children. He wanted to marry my sister and be my brother in truth."

"The boy you knew in the Eyrie died on the Trident, my lord," Elia told him sadly. "The boy you once were died as well. A crown can make a man great, or make him a monster. A great man would not revel in the deaths of babes. The sooner you accept that, the less peril you will put your family in."

Lord Stark did not respond. He hid his face in his hands, almost crying. Elia's heart filled with pity for him, but she knew he did not want her comfort. "I will take my leave. The night grows darker and my body grows weary. Think on what I've told you. I was far from happy when I learned that your sister was with child, but I don't want my son's fate to befall hers. Goodnight, my lord." With that, she got up to her feet, picked up Balerion, and left Lord Stark to his gods.

* * *

The ship landed on Dragonstone on a cold, dreary morning. A light snowfall covered the rocky, black shore in a fresh layer of new snow. Elia hesitated in stepping off the ship, as her first step onto the docks meant she'd been trapped here forever. Trapped. What an odd what to think of her former home. When she and Rhaegar had wed, she had been so optimistic, thinking she could bring warmth and sunlight to this formidable castle. Now, coming to Dragonstone felt like a banishment.

The king wanted her children as hostages, but didn't want her around.

Rhaella had been notably quiet during the voyage. The night before they left, Aerys put a man to the flame, and came to Rhaella's chambers afterward as was his wont. Her wounds from that night still stood out on her skin like beacons on a dark night.

Elia, Rhaella, and Viserys settled in the castle, alone save their servants and guards. Ser Willem Darry, the Red Keep's master-at-arms, served as their primary protector, but they had no Kingsguard with them. Hightower, Dayne, and Whent remained missing, while Ser Jaime remained in King's Landing. Elia hoped he would watch over her children as well as he watched over the king.

Dragonstone was a lonely, quiet citadel, but Elia felt a measure of relief that she was no longer Aerys's close watch. If only she had Rhaenys and Aegon with her. Viserys, who adored his niece, had no other children to play with and quickly grew bored. He clung to his mother's side, more a pale, anxious shadow than a little boy. Rhaella and Elia did their best to make the situation less frightening for him, but they had enough trouble suppressing their own fear.

The war was all but lost. The rebels had smashed the royal host at the Battle of the Trident, and after Robert Baratheon killed Rhaegar most of their men lost heart. Mace Tyrell feasted outside the walls of Storm's End instead of taking his men north to defend the royal family. They had no other friends, for she doubted Tywin Lannister would come to their rescue. His enmity with King Aerys went back many years, and he hated Elia for taking the place he felt belonged to his daughter.

Throughout her pregnancy, Elia kept Urela close. Her potion was a godsend. Never during either of her two previous pregnancies had Elia felt so strong. She was under no illusion that giving birth would be easy now, but she thought that she might live and raise her child. If she had a boy, she would name him Lewyn for her uncle. If she had a girl, she would not name her Visenya.

As the weeks dragged on, Elia and Rhaella waited with hearts full of dread of what were to come out of King's Landing. One cool, clear evening, a raven arrived from the capital with words darker than its wings. Elia did not learn of it until after she woke the next morning and found Rhaella sitting alone in the great hall. Her silver head was bowed over the small piece of parchment, shoulders shaking from sobs.

Elia knew at once this was moment she had feared. She walked to her goodmother, who looked up silently with swollen, red eyes and cracked lips. Rhaella tried to open her mouth to speak, but could not. Instead, she slid the parchment in Elia's hands.

Rhaenys stabbed half a hundred times, her face torn to bloody shreds. Aegon smashed against a wall, his head beaten into a gory pulp. Aerys slain by his own Kingsguard. The Iron Throne claimed in the name of Robert Baratheon.

All the feeling left Elia's body when she learned the fate of her children. She could not cry or scream, for if she did, she would never stop. Days and nights were spent locked in her chambers, trapped under the covers of her bed. Sleeping was agony, waking was torture. Her maids had to force food, water, and medicine into her mouth. She left for nothing, not even when Rhaella held a ceremony in the great hall to crown Viserys the rightful king.

The present and future lost all meaning in a world without Rhaenys and Aegon. She saw her children's faces everywhere she looked; Rhaenys with her big black eyes, Aegon's toothless grin. More than once Elia heard some rustle or some small noise, and had to remind herself that they were not on the other side of the wall.

She remembered what Rhaegar said when he finally returned for his hiding place. That his new child with Lyanna Stark would not pose a threat to their children. He killed them, she thought. He killed my sweet babes for his half-wolf daughter. He's killed us all chasing after prophecies.

Before long, they found themselves besieged by rebel forces, lead by the Usurper's brother Stannis Baratheon. They had little hope left, save a chance to escape to the Free Cities. Nowhere is Westeros was safe, not even Dorne. Ser Willem found a small ship that could slide through the blockage and make the journey east before Baratheon noticed, but they could not move until Elia gave birth.

Her waters broke just as a storm began to form over over the seas surrounding Dragonstone. Elia slipped through the sands of time as she labored, vividly remembering her labors with Rhaenys and Aegon. She had no assurances that this babe would live any longer than her other children, but she endured nonetheless. Her two dead children were wounds that would never heal. A third dead child would rob her of any will to live.

As the storm wreaked the fleet below, a new princess entered the world.

* * *

Elia's hands shook as she lit the candle and placed in the Stranger's alter. She wasn't sure who she was praying for.

* * *

At first, everyone called the child Stormborn, but on the second day after her birth, Elia finally named her Daenerys. She had the silver hair and purple eyes of the Targaryens, but the rest of her was all Martell. She looked so much like Rhaenys, it felt like a dagger in Elia's heart. The Daenerys of old had been both a Targaryen princess and a Princess of Dorne, who married well, brought peace after a brutal conflict, and lived a long, happy life under the Dornish sun. That is what you deserve, Elia thought as she gazed down at her third and only remaining child. That is my hope for you.

She thought back to the night Daenerys had been conceived, when Rhaegar ordered her to his bed. To show that he still loved her, he had said, but to Elia it felt like punishment for doubting him. Her labor had been hard, but not as hard as her labors with Rhaenys and Aegon. Just when Elia thought the Mother had spared her in childbed, a fever struck on third day. Elia burned in her bed as preparations to flee stalled.

"You must go now," Elia urged her goodmother. There was no one else in the world she would have trusted her child to if she had the choice. "Before the Baratheon men recover from the storm. You won't get another chance."

Rhaella sat at her bedside, clasping her gooddaughter's weak, frail hands. "Your mother was one of my dearest friends. How could I live with myself if I abandoned her daughter?"

"Think me dead, I'm as good as."

"Elia, don't say such a thing."

"You must leave now. Not in the morning, now. You cannot take me with you, I'll never survive the journey. Leave, Rhaella. Keep my daughter safe. Tell her about me, tell her about her sister and brother, her uncles and cousins, her grandparents and great-uncle..."

"What...what will I tell her about her father?"

"The truth."

Rhaella left with the children an hour later, under the protection of Willem Darry. The Darrys were loyal to the bone. Ser Willem's own brother, Ser Jonathor of the Kingsguard, had perished alongside his prince at the Trident. Elia had only minutes with her babe before she would have to take the perilous journey across the Narrow Sea. For all his fascination with seeing the future, he never saw this little girl coming. How much death and misery could have been averted if he had? Elia knew the question would haunt her all the rest of her days. When they could not be delayed any longer, Viserys kissed her goodbye and Rhaella took Daenerys from her.

She's in good hands, Elia reassured herself as her daughter vanished from her sight. She's with her grandmother and uncle, and she has a fine knight to protect her.

After a sleepless night, while still battling her fever, Elia gave the order to surrender the castle. The last Targaryens were gone from Westeros, there was no reason to keep putting the lives of her men at risk. Lord Stannis sent a messenger to her sickbed with the demand that she swear fealty to the new king.

"I'm dying," she told him simply. "My vow isn't worth much."

Later that morning, she fell into a deep sleep. For once, she did not see the red ruins of her children, but a young girl with olive skin, silver hair, and violet eyes walking into a flaming pyre. A girl who looked like her mother. Beyond, a dead king lay burning, and all around his corpse crawled three small dragons. The girl took the dragons in her arms. Her silver hair burned right up to the roots, yet she was unharmed as the flames licked her skin.

Elia woke with a strange sense of calm and soundness that she not felt since Rhaegar had passed her over at Harrenhal. She wasn't dying. In fact, for the first time in weeks, she could stand upright on her own strength. She was still weaker than normal, but she was recovering much more quickly than she had with either of her previous pregnancies. Five days later, she was well enough to sup with Lord Stannis.

Though she had known that he was besieged at Storm's End for a year, his gaunt, lifeless appearance still shocked her. Scarcely twenty, Stannis looked closer to thirty. She did not imagine she looked much better after her ordeal.

"It seems you're not dying after all," he noted.

"I'm as surprised as you, my lord."

"You will still need to swear a vow of fealty to my brother. He won the throne by force of arms and so it is his by rights."

"He won the throne by stepping over the corpses of my children."

Stannis faltered, then argued, "That was never part of Robert's plan. He faced your late husband in battle honorably and would have done the same to Aerys had the Kingslayer not broken his vow first. Lord Tywin ordered the deaths of your children, not my brother."

"And how did your brother react when Lord Tywin laid the bodies of my son and daughter at his feet?"

He ground his teeth together, "He was...not displeased."

"I am not foolish enough to think he would have felt otherwise. My children had the stronger claim, and he needed them dead to secure his throne."

"As I said, that was not his plan. He would have sent your son to the Watch and married your daughter to his firstborn son. Will you swear fealty, princess, or face a traitor's death?"

Inside, Elia was enraged that Stannis dared call her a traitor, he who forsake the rightful king, but she would gain nothing from saying so. The thought of swearing herself to that brute shook her to her bones, but she had to play her part. She would bow to Robert Baratheon for now and keep her head low, so that one day she could bring her daughter home. Doran had once told her to never trust the tall grass because it hid the viper. She would be both grass and viper.

"I will swear myself to King Robert." The words made her want to rip her own tongue out.

"You must also write to your brother in Sunspear to tell him to swear fealty to our new king."

"Of course, my lord."

Stannis narrowed his eyes. "Robert will never expect loyalty from you," he said bluntly.

"Nor many others, I imagine," Elia replied calmly, "That is the burden of kingship, as Aerys learned."

* * *

After returning from the feast, Ashara brushed Elia's hair as they prepared for bed. Their rooms in Harrenhal were overly large and drafty, but the servants kept piling wood into the cavernous fireplace to keep them warm. Harrenhal unnerved Elia. This was an unnatural place, a castle that never should have been built. It was so large that the whole castle could not be used all at once, and so many corners had been left to rot and decay. The Whents had done their best to keep it habitable, but maintaining a castle of this size was draining their coffers. Elia wondered how they could afford to host such a lavish tourney.

"What do you think he meant by it?" Ashara wondered aloud. "I've never heard of a man dishonoring his lawful way in such a way."

Elia frowned, "I asked him, but he said he could not give me the answer."

"By that did he mean he had no answer, or that he did but would not to share it?"

"The latter, I think."

Ashara made a disgusted noise, "And for that Stark girl! She's so wild and boyish, I could hardly believe she was a lady. She's not even that pretty. I cannot fathom what he sees in her."

"You don't need to insult Lyanna Stark on my behalf, Ashara," Elia chided.

"I'm not," Ashara giggled, "I'm simply stating what everyone else is thinking."

"I wouldn't say her betrothed finds her so unpleasant."

"Who's to say he doesn't only like because he's her brother friend?"

"Ashara, you're being unkind."

"And you're too kind, Princess Elia. She should have thrown those flowers onto the ground, or given them to you."

"What's done is done," Elia said with finality. "Ultimately, this rests at Rhaegar's feet. She didn't force him to embarrass me like that at swordpoint."

Ashara was young, only sixteen and recently a woman; flighty, flirty, and green as spring grass. The girl had not been in her service long and wanted to make a good impression, but she had touch more venom in her than Elia was happy with. Still, Ashara had an irresistible charm, with her sly smiles and laughing eyes. Having Ashara around was like having Oberyn as a little sister.

"As you say," Ashara rolled her eyes.

"I'm sure someone will make a song of this," Elia muttered, "Hopeful that's all that comes of my husband's actions."

* * *

Princess Elia arrived in King's Landing worn out by the trial of childbirth, but she carried herself with the grace and manner of a queen. Despite the horrors that had befallen her, she did not let her true feelings show on her face. As she knelt before Robert Baratheon, the man who had sanctioned the murder of her children, she looked as though she wore a mask of bronze.

Jaime's chest ached fiercely when he looked her. In his foolishness, he had assumed his father would not hurt Rhaenys and Aegon, and they paid for his mistake with their lives. She had always been kind to him, and he failed her in the worst way. Once, their mothers had hoped to betroth them to each other, until his father put a stop to it. Though he could not imagine wanting to be with any woman but Cersei, he now felt that he was unworthy of Elia.

Her presence set everyone on edge. She was the widow of Robert's worst enemy, a women married into the family that challenged his claim, and the mother of a dragon princess. Robert wanted her dead, but it was one thing to kill a man in battle and quite another to kill a sickly woman who had surrendered and bent the knee. It would make him no better than Aerys, and open questions regarding his worthiness to rule. He could dodge responsibility for the deaths of the Targaryen children, but if there was any suspicion that he had killed their mother, the whispers would follow him all the rest of his days.

"Where is the pretender?" Robert demanded. The courtiers shuffled mutely, watching for the princess's response with sharp, hungry eyes.

"I know not, your Grace," Elia answered. "I was abed with fever, on the brink of death the former queen, fled with the children. If she had any plans, she did not share them with me."

"And what if I don't believe you? You would lie to protect those dragonspawn." Robert was searching for a reason to execute her like a hound searching for a fox.

"You may question the Dragonstone maester and all my ladies-in-waiting, if it pleases you. They will tell you as I have told you."

"Yet you were loyal to them, weren't you? You chose to let Rhaegar into your bed even after he dishonored and raped my betrothed."

"It was not a choice, your Grace," Elia corrected. "It's what he expected of me as his wife. Rhaegar was no kinder to me than he was to Lady Lyanna."

Robert's face turned purple, and he struggled not to ball his hands into fists. Lyanna was near to a goddess in his mind, and Elia might as well have pissed on her shrine. Jaime thought back to the many nights he had spent outside the queen's bedchamber listening to her abuse like a craven, rather than protecting her from her husband. He never imagined Rhaegar to be that sort of man. Elia did not bear the same scars Rhaella had, but perhaps hers were not on her body.

Jaime's hand itched to reach for his sword as Robert glared at Elia. If he lays a hand on her, he thought, I'll gladly become the Kingslayer twice over.

The moment passed.

"I'll have your household questioned _sharply,_ " Robert sneered. "If I should find any proof of duplicity, your blood is on your own hands. You've swore a vow to me. See that you keep it."

"I am the crown's faithful servant," Elia replied demurely. She melted back into the crowd after Robert dismissed her, and Jaime tried to stop himself from searching for her.

* * *

They had been living in Magister Illyrio's house for half a year before Daenerys finally learned what he wanted from them. The sly, old cheesemonger was arranging a marriage between her and a Dothraki khal in exchange for an army that would take the Seven Kingdoms for her uncle. Grandmother would have never allowed this, but Grandmother was dead.

As Illyrio's servants bathed, groomed, and dressed her for the wedding, Daenerys thought back to the night she had been so close to death. An assassin had crept into the house her family had been staying in. He had come in through a window somehow, and raised his knife against her and her grandmother. She still had the scars on her arms and hands to prove it. Grandmother had shielded Daenerys' body with her own, until the sound of their screaming altered the guards. They killed him without hesitation, but they could not save her grandmother.

Rhaella Targaryen had been the nearest Daenerys ever had to a mother, and she never even learned the name of the man who had taken her away.

Her whole life, she had lived in fear of the Usurper's knives, and that night her fears had come to life. He had allowed the Lannisters to butcher her sister and brother when they were still babes, and she should have never expected to safe. Even now, a year later, she slept uneasily at night and would sometimes begin crying when she thought of her grandmother. She could not cry now. Viserys wanted her to look pretty for the khal, and he would hurt her if she started crying.

Daenerys hated Illyrio. She trusted him no more than the fox trusted the dog. Uncle Doran and Uncle Oberyn had many friends in the Free Cities, friends who had sheltered, hidden, protected them over the years. Her mother was held captive at Casterly Rock, wed to Tywin Lannister's twisted dwarf son against her will. If word reached the Ursurper or one of his dogs that House Martell had aided them, it would surely mean her mother's execution for treason. They never stayed too long in one place, always staying one step ahead of the Ursurper's spies, but they had never lacked places to go. When Grandmother died, though, Viserys no longer wished to rely on her Martell relatives or their allies.

Someone had betrayed them, he was certain, and none of them could be trusted. "They let that rat kill my mother, the last true Queen of Westeros. Just like your Dornish whore of a mother let Robert Baratheon kill my brother Rhaegar." Daenerys did not bother mentioning that Rhaegar had been her father. A foolish, reckless man, but her father nonetheless.

So Viserys chose to go with Magister Illyrio and Daenerys had no choice but to go with him. She did not doubt that the rest of her family would be furious when they learned what Viserys had done, but she was too far away for them to intervene. Perhaps if Aunt Mellario were near...

Daenerys had only met her aunt in person once, at the age of ten when she lived in Norvos. She had come to the manse in the dead of night, bearing news and letters and gifts from Westeros. "You look so much like Elia," Aunt Mellario had said glowingly. Apart from her hair and eyes, Daenerys did not much like a Targaryen. She had always felt out of place with Grandmother and Viserys, but her aunt's words filled her with a sense of pride she never known before. Aunt Mellario gave her a brooch from her mother, the sun made of ruby, citrine, and topaz. It was her dearest treasure. The visited lasted only an hour, for it would not have been safe for her aunt to remain any longer, but it was night Daenerys thought back to whenever she felt lonely, sad, or scared.

Too soon, she finished preparing for the wedding. Viserys would force her to wed a strange man who might treat her poorly, or even kill her if it pleased him. She was powerless to stop him. Powerless, helpless, and friendless since Grandmother's death. The weight of what was about to happened bore down on her like a heavy stone. Once, she dreamed that she could fly a dragon to Westeros and rescue her mother from the Usurper's grasp. To avenge her sister and brother, her father and grandfather. But that had only been a child's dream. She could not even rescue herself.

* * *

Bribing the nursemaids had been a simple thing. Elia and Rhaella never trusted him, and would not have surrendered the prince and princess to his care, but Aerys had banished them to Dragonstone. There were no others in the Red Keep who cared enough about the children to notice they had been switched for common babes from Fleabottom. The daughter of a dockside whore who looked close to Dornish because of her foreign father. The motherless son of a tanner from Pisswater Bend who mattered less to his father than a taste of Arbor Gold. Unfortunate sacrifices, but necessary. Those children had died, while Young Griff of Tyrosh and Larra of Myr had been born.

They died for a noble cause, Varys told himself. When Jon Connington returns west with Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys, it will have been worth it.


End file.
